Death and Destruction
by ravenxoxwings
Summary: When Sam and Dean stop in a small town in Illinois after killing the jinn, they discover a demon ripping the town to shreds and a girl in desperate need of help. Rated T for content.
1. Chapter One

This is my first fan fiction so be nice!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural even though I wish I did

**Set After:** What Is and What Should Never Be

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_Carry on my wayward son_

_There will be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary head to rest_

_Don't you cry no more_

_~Kansas~_

Dean had been driving down I-70 for most of the evening, his features full of fatigue from the long night. The lines down the center of the road blended together as he stared at them.

_It's everything you want. We're a family again._

"Dean!" Sam shouted and grabbed the steering wheel, jerking the Impala back onto their side of the road. A car drove passed, their horns blaring as they did so. Dean shook his head and cleared his throat, gripping the wheel tighter. Sam's hand fell slowly off of it.

"Thanks." Dean muttered, blinking his eyes with exhaustion.

"You want me to drive?" Sam asked, worry plain in his boyish voice. Dean glanced at Sam through the corner of his eyes. The same worry in his voice was on his innocent face. Dean cleared his throat again and looked back at the dark Interstate.

"Nah…I'm…I'm fine." He licked his lips. He could see Sam fold his lips against his teeth out of his peripheral vision and sighed. "Seriously, Sammy." He heard Sam exhale loudly.

"Well, there's an exit coming up. Effingham." Sam unfolded the map and laid it across his lap.

"Illinois has some weird-ass names." Dean snorted as he pulled into the far right lane.

"Tell me about it." Sam pressed his lips together. "There's the exit." Sam pointed towards the small turn off. Dean obliged and slowed down as he steered the car around the winding exit. His eyebrows pushed together as he tried to concentrate on what he was doing, where he was going, and why. His whole life has always been made up of what if's and maybe's, but after the last couple days…he couldn't bring himself to think about anything else than hunting. And damn, he hated it, but it was his job.

_You know…saving people, hunting things…the family business…_

Saving people…

Why was it their job to save everyone? He had said this to his dad's grave in the fantasy that stupid jinn put him through, but it had been circling in Dean's head for days. Weeks. _Months. _Never leaving and always reminding him of what his father had said.

Dean blinked the thoughts away and tried his best to focus on searching for a hotel decent enough to house them for the night. They have stayed in some pretty lousy places over the years and Dean was personally getting sick of it. He wanted to stay in a place that actually felt like a home.

"You sure you're okay man?" Sam's voice filtered back into Dean's thoughts. He turned his head towards Sam quickly and then back to the road.

"Jesus, Sam. Quit asking." Dean's voice was thick with all the horrors and loss he had gone through over the years, all to save people. A motel passed by, its 'No Vacancy' sign blinking with disappointment. More and more hotels passed, all with the same broadcast: that there will be no place for them. "Looks like we have to sleep in the car tonight."

"Wait, what's that up there?" Sam asked, nudging his chin towards the end of the empty street.

"What?" Dean asked, staring at the old Victorian. Only a couple lights were on but Dean could see a small sign out front.

"A lot of people have their own hotels; maybe…that's one of them." Sam shrugged. Dean glanced at his little brother through the corners of his tired eyes.

"Yeah." He muttered and pulled out of the stop light he hadn't even realized he was in, heading towards the house that at one point would have been a mansion. It was definitely one of the best places he's seen in a long time, but just because it was a Victorian didn't mean it was a hotel. The Impala rumbled to a stop out front of the yellow and white building.

_Harris' Bed & Breakfast_

"I'll be damned." Dean scoffed, his grip on the steering wheel loosened. The vacancy sign swayed back in forth with the wind. The corners of Sam's lips curled up in an I-told-you-so grin and Dean shook his head. "Well, let's get a room before you start talking about how you went to college and I didn't."

W

Dean adjusted the bag around his shoulder stiffly and clenched his jaw as he walked up the small cement path towards the Victorian. Sam was right behind him, his loud footsteps echoing in the back of Dean's mind. He pulled the wooden door open and inhaled the deeply. The rich aroma of hot chocolate and cinnamon lingered in the light air. Dean's lips parted as he looked around the entry hall. Paintings of landscapes and people lined the lines. Pots filled with flowers and candles added to the homey atmosphere. A lump formed in his throat. This was all too similar to the house his mother had owned in the acid trip he had undergone. He pressed his lips tightly together and approached the small counter where the cash register sat. He rang the small bell on the wooden surface and waited for someone, anyone, to pull him from the memories of what could have been. Sam dropped his bag on the floor, the loud clunk doing the job and making Dean flinch.

"This is nice." Sam chuckled, looking at the painting of a pasture that sat in front of him. Dean didn't know how to respond. Of all the years he had wished for somewhere nice, it had to be after the jinn. After he experienced a normal life with his mom. After he realized, he would never have a normal life.

The soft pattering of feet made Dean lift his chin up from his tired stance. He licked his dry lips and raised an eyebrow as a girl appeared in his line of sight. Her black, wavy hair bounced as she swiveled around the counter.

"Sorry. A costumer had a problem." She sighed, her voice light. Dean's other eyebrow raised as he looked her over in a slow blink. Her green eyes matched the lamp sitting on the small surface and her bronze skin clashed with the dark wood. She was stunning…and intriguing. A smile lurked on Dean's lips.

"That's fine." He breathed and rested his elbow next to the black register. The girl nodded once and scoffed under her breath.

"How can I help you?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest and staring back at Dean, her smile full of disbelief. Dean's eyes flickered to where her arms crossed at the black shirt underneath.

"I love AC/DC." He pointed to the logo that was hidden under her hair. She rolled her eyes.

"Can we get a room?" Sam interrupted, throwing Dean a stern look of disapproval.

"Sure. Two singles I'm guessing?" She asked, turning to a computer that Dean hadn't noticed before. Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard.

"Yeah." Dean answered. "For a night." He pulled his wallet out of the pocket hidden in his blue canvas jacket and slid his credit card toward her. "So, how'd you get into the hotel business?" He asked, smiling at her again. Her lips parted for a second as she shifted her non-existent weight to the other foot.

"My dad…owns it." She nodded and took the credit card from him and slid it across the register. "It's not like I had much of a choice." She muttered, handing him the card. "There you go Dean…Magillicuddy." She raised an eyebrow. "Nice name."

"Thanks. What's yours?" Dean smiled smugly, shoving the credit card back into his leather wallet and placing it back into his jacket pocket.

"Anabell." She glanced at Sam for a split-second before reaching behind her and grabbing a key. "Let me show you to your room." She sighed, running her fingers through her hair and jingling the keys as she scooted out from behind the counter. Dean bit down on his bottom lip as he watched her walk down the hall, her long legs covered in tight, blue jeans.

"Damn." He muttered and gripped the strap of his bag and followed after her. He didn't even look back to see if Sam was following after him as he caught up to Anabell. She glanced at him through the corner of her eyes and sighed. "You like classic rock?" He asked, looking down at her. She was taller than most women, at about 5'11, but he still towered over her at his 6'3 advantage.

"Yeah I guess. I'm not really into hip-hop if you mean." She led them to the stairs and stepped up them slowly. "You?"

"AC/DC all the way." He laughed, "Although Led Zeppelin is my favorite."

"Hm. " She nodded her head once as they reached the second floor. Dean could hear other couples talking in their rooms as they passed them. He let his grip on the strap of his duffel bag loosen as Anabell stopped at the very end of the hall and faced the wood door. "Here you go." She muttered, shoving the key into the keyhole and pushed the door open. Anabell backed away from the doorway and slid her hands into her back pockets.

"Thank you." Dean smiled walking inside. Sam inhaled deeply through his nose and stepped passed Anabell and threw his bag on the far bed. Dean stayed by the door, letting the duffel fall to his feet.

"See you tomorrow. Oh and by the way," She brushed her black hair out of her face, "Try not to be loud. It's just my luck that my room is right across from yours." She smiled and walked back down the hall, her DC shoes tapping against the hard wood floor.

"Heh." Dean smirked and pulled the key from the door and closed it softly. "She's right across the hall." He wiggled his eyebrows at Sam who rolled his eyes.

"She doesn't seem that interested in you, man." He sighed and sat down on the big bed.

"Oh she will be once I turn on the charm." Dean licked his lips, a goofy grin stuck on them. Sam scoffed and shook his head, glancing at the clock on the bedside table as Dean sat down on his own bed.

_12:47_

"We should hit the hay." Dean mumbled as he pulled off his jacket and threw it on his duffel bag near the door.

"It's not like we're in a hurry, Dean. You obviously want to…get to know Anabell." Sam rubbed the back of his neck.

"That's my point. I want to catch her on her morning shift. But hey," Dean threw his hands in the air, "If you want to watch porn, I'll go out and drive around."

Sam glared at him. "You'd kill yourself driving. You are so tired; you'd probably drive into a corn field." He changed the subject.

"Exactly." Dean pointed at him and wagged his finger. Sam smiled and looked away. "I call dibs on first shower."

W

Anabell locked the door to her room and sighed. Her black hair fell over her green eyes as she pressed her forehead to the smooth wood. She leaned away from it, her hands trailing off the door as she stalked slowly towards the bed. She kicked her shoes off and pushed them towards the closet with her feet before sitting down. Her hands gripped the edge of the mattress, her knuckles turning white, as she stared at the door. Anabell lifted one of hr hands and gripped the necklace that dangled against her chest. The shark tooth cut into her palm but she didn't let go. Her jaw clenched. This was stupid. She should tell someone…anyone about this. But how could she? Everyone would think she was nuts and lock her up in a mental hospital.

Blood dripped from her hand and she let go of the shark tooth necklace and looked down at her palm. A gash ran down the center, blood oozing out of it. She sighed loudly and stood up, walking quickly to the bathroom. She turned the knob on the sink with her left hand and placed her hand under the rushing cold water. Anabell licked her lips, the taste of her cherry chap stick filling her mouth, as she cleaned her cut.

"Jesus." She muttered and turned the water off before drying her hand carefully with the white towel. Blood smeared across it and she clucked her tongue. "Dammit." Anabell knelt down and opened the cupboard beneath the sink, pulling out bandages. Her hand continued to sting with the aftermath of cleaning it with soap and she winced. She quickly wrapped her hand in the white, cloth bandage before clipping it together with a butterfly clasp. She pressed her lips together and stood back up, closing the cupboard with her knee. The lights flickered overhead and she glanced up at them, her eyes widening slightly as it blinked on an off. Anabell shuffled out of the bathroom and turned off the light, retreating to the bed. She slipped off her pants and slid under the covers, her black hair circling her head like a dark halo.

Her eyes closed slowly and her breathing slowed.

_Dark eyes stared at her, their irises a burning flame overcome with blackness. The pupils grew, expanding over the whites of the eye, the eyelids, and then consuming the hidden face. They continued to eat away at the darkness until they towered over her. Then they ate her up too._

A low snarling woke Anabell from her nightmare. The growling growing louder as the soft thuds of feet padded against the ground. Not feet. _Paws._ Anabell's eyes opened slowly but she didn't move as the breathing continued its rasps, dense and thick with anger. She parted her lips and inhaled before turning her head slowly towards where the breathing came from. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She shouldn't be surprised by it as she was visited by the beast many times. But each time, it grew larger, like the eyes that consumed her dreams.

Drool dripped from the black dog's lips, its breath reeking of sulfur.

W

Dean wrapped his arms around the pillow and inhaled deeply. The fresh scent of pancakes and coffee filled his nostrils and his mouth watered. He lifted his head and sniffed the air again.

"Morning, princess." Sam smirked from the table near the grand window. Dean glanced at him and licked his lips.

"Do I smell pancakes?" He asked, pushing the blankets off of him and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Sam nodded and closed his laptop slowly. "What are you doing up at," He looked at the alarm clock, "5:30 in the morning?"

"Couldn't sleep." Sam muttered and tapped the heel of his biker boot on the floor.

"Huh." Dean rubbed his eyes. He rolled his sore neck and grunted when a loud crack reached his ears. At least his neck felt better. "Breakfast?" Dean asked, placing his hands on either side of him and leaning foreword.

"Sure. Got nothing better to do." Sam folded his lips against his teeth and curved them up in a tired smile. Dean bobbed his head and scratched the back of his neck. He stood up slowly and cleared his throat and he stiffly moved to wear he had thrown his bag last night. He dragged it over to the bed and threw it down before sorting around, trying to find something decent to wear. He sniffed a gray shirt and threw it aside.

"So. You think Anabell is working yet?" He raised his eyebrows. He grinned suggestively and swayed back and forth. Sam rolled his eyes.

"You're unbelievable."

"Very true." Dean smiled as he pulled on a black t-shirt. He straightened his necklace and grabbed a holey pair of jeans before tugging them on. "Hey, maybe Anabell will find out why." He chuckled and watched as Sam stood up and wondered to the bathroom.

"Shut up freak." Sam called as he turned on the water. Dean could hear Sam brushing his teeth as he threw the bag over his shoulder.

"Hurry up you lush. I'm freaking' starving." Dean growled. He rubbed his nose and placed his hands on his waist. Sam spit out the toothpaste and washed his mouth out. Dean pushed passed him, trying to fit into the small bathroom and quickly brushed his own teeth. He wiped the water off of his mouth with the towel and grabbed his blue canvas jacket.

"And you say I'm slow." Sam sighed as he leaned against the wall next to the door. Dean pushed his arms through the sleeves and opened the door, barely smacking Sam in the mouth.

"Oops. Sorry." He muttered and stepped out into the hall. Sam glared at Dean and slammed the door behind him.

"Ha ha." Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of his suede coat and walked alongside Dean, his brown hair falling over his eyes. Two small kids ran between the two brothers, hitting their legs as they did so. Dean looked back at them as they played in the hall. The smell of pancakes was getting thicker as they walked and Dean lifted his head.

"Damn that smells good." He licked his lips again and hurried to the stairs.

"Sheesh, someone mentions food and you hyperventilate." Sam laughed as they walked down the stairs. Dean's eyes rolled in the direction of Sam.

"Hey, do you think they have f'ing ham?" Dean laughed, smacking Sam square in the chest with the back of his hand. Sam smiled and swayed his head side to side. Anabell appeared out of a doorway at the foot of the steps and ran her fingers through her hair. Her eyes flickered up at Dean and Sam as they reached the final step.

"Hey!" Dean waved and continued to smile as he fixed his jacket and walked to her side. Her jaw clenched and she turned towards him.

"Hi." She sighed to both of them. "Sorry, I have to go to the store." She picked up her black leather jacket and pulled it on.

"Great. I'll come with you." Dean raised his eyebrows. Anabell paused and looked him over, her green eyes looking tired and scared. She threw her shoulders back and pressed her lips together.

"Fine." She muttered, her voice as light as always but filled with the vague sense of dread. Dean pushed his eyebrows together and narrowed his eyes at her. Sam's lip twitched.

"Dean." He gripped his brother's arm and turned him around.

"What?"

Sam pushed his chin foreword. "Breakfast?"

"I'll catch up with you later." He pushed Sam's hand off of his arm and walked with Anabell. She pulled her hair loose from the collar of her jacket and glanced at Dean every so often.

"You mind riding a bike?" She asked once they were outside in the crisp morning air. The sun was just rising over the trees that surrounded the small town, creating a read glow. Anabell's black hair looked a deep purple in the tint.

"Bike?" Dean asked, looking around the parking lot until his eyes fell on the black and green Kawasaki.

"Yeah." She nodded, a smug smile appearing on her fully rounded lips. Dean inhaled deeply and scoffed.

"Sure. Bikes are uh…fun." He laughed nervously. Anabell giggled and pulled on her black helmet. She tossed a green one at him and Dean caught it swiftly.

"You get the girly one." Dean studied her carefully as she slid over the seat and pushed the kickstand back. He bit his lip as his eyes ran over her, from her bronze skin to her flat stomach to her well rounded ass. He exhaled a huff of air and pulled the helmet on and tightened the strap.

"Don't kill me." He teased, jumping on the seat. He paused, his hands right next to her waist, before gripping her tightly. He cleared his throat carefully and readjusted himself until he fit right on the seat. His body was practically pressed up against her, her body heat making him shiver as she started the engine and backed the bike out. She revved the bike, and peeled out, almost throwing Dean off of the motorcycle. He gripped her thin waist more firmly, concentrating on breathing as the bike flew passed buildings. The cold wind hit the holes on his knees, making him shiver again. His pulse quickened as Anabell continued to pick up speed.


	2. Chapter Two

Read Chapter One!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the Winchesters even though I wish I did.

Set After: What Is and What Should Never Be (Season 2 Episode 20)

Rating: T for language and violence

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W

Dean stumbled off of the bike and barely missed landing on his ass. Before he really saw the pavement, a hand clutched his arm and pulled him back up.

"Sorry about that. I like to go fast." Anabell giggled once Dean was steady on his feet. He swallowed the nausea down and smiled at her.

"Me too." He laughed. His throat was dry from the thick wind he had been pushed through. She shook her head as her hands quickly reached up and pulled the black helmet off. Her hair fell over the shoulders of the leather jacket and she giggled again, her nose crinkling up as she did so.

"I can tell. You're as white as a…"Her eyes shallowed, "As a ghost." Her smiled faded and she turned away. Dean pushed his eyebrows together.

"What's wrong?" He asked, pulling his own helmet off and clearing his throat as he tried to adjust to the light around him. Anabell turned her head slightly in his direction and sighed quietly.

"Nothing. Let's get the stuff and get back to the hotel." She ran her fingers through her black hair and walked towards the glass door of the grocery store. Dean pressed his lips together. Even though her vague feelings weren't subtle, Dean wasn't sure of what to think of her. Sure, she was hot and strong like most women he had dated, but something about her…didn't seem right. Like she knew more than she was letting on.

Dean cleared his throat again, and let his chin fall back against his chest as he heard the door open. He glanced back up and dropped the helmet over the handles of the motorcycle before quickly catching up. The automatic doors opened silently for him and he stepped into the humid air of the small town shop that was filled with the right amount of locals at this early hour. Dean stole a look at Anabell once more as she unzipped her jacket and grabbed a hand cart. She looked back over her shoulder, a tired expression on her pretty face.

"Come on you sissy." She called before looking away. Dean licked his lips and ran a hand over his face before walking to her side. He had tried not to think about this sense last night, but every time he looked at her, at how she walked, talked, and acted, he saw Carmen. The girl of his dreams. The girl he had left because of his self-destructive need to help everyone. But like he needed to tell himself over and over, it wasn't a girl, it was just a dream.

He slid his hands into the pockets of his blue canvas jacket and glanced down each aisle as they passed. The soft sound of a paper unfolding caught his troubled attention and he turned to look at Anabell as she stopped. Her hands gripped a list tightly as her eyes moved from left to right as she read the items hidden from him.

"What do you need?" He asked, turning back to her and trying to read the list over her shoulder. Her eyes briefly looked up at him before returning to the crumpled paper.

"You wouldn't know where to get it." She smirked.

"Try me." Dean lightly punched her shoulder. Anabell lifted her head and stared at him with a confused glare. The smile disappeared off his face and he looked away. He could see her roll her eyes out of the corner of his and inhaled deeply. So she wasn't that in to joking around. Maybe that would change.

"Fine. If you think you know where the eggs are, by all means, go ahead." She shook her head and folded the paper back into a neat square.

"Easy. It's with the milk." Dean glanced back at her and bobbed his head.

"Where's the milk?" She gave him a smug smile and crossed her arms over her chest. Dean grimaced.

"I'll…go…find it." He rolled his neck shortly and let his eyes drift up to the signs above.

"While you do that, I'll go look for the tequila." She teased and walked in the other direction, her footsteps echoing in the quiet store. Dean clenched his jaw and started down a random aisle, not really knowing where to look. He had been in many gas stations before where everything was set out ready for you to grab. But grocery stores…he was like a 5 year old without his mother in a store like this.

Without his mother…

He gulped down the regret and rubbed the back of his neck as he wondered around, not really paying attention. Was it all a mistake to leave everything behind? His mom, Carmen, Sam with Jess…his life would be so much easier and he might actually feel…comfortable.

After about six minutes of walking around the florescent-lighted nightmare, he stumbled on the dairy aisle. He smiled as he spotted the rack filled with eggs.

"Bingo." He muttered to himself and stepped foreword. Dean reached out his hand to grab a carton when he noticed all the different types and colors. Eggs were not his forte. He looked around, hoping someone would come to the rescue, and pursed his lips. No one. Of course. He rubbed the back of his head and narrowed his eyes at the various grades. "I so didn't sign on for this." He mumbled, his lip twitching.

The hard thud of footsteps made Dean turn his attention from the crazy nonsense. A large, portly man stumbled foreword, his thinning air making his head glow in the bad lighting. Dean glanced the man up and down, taking in the overall messiness of his man as he walked towards the milk. He wore a dirty opaque undershirt with an equally dirty and unbuttoned flannel shirt over it. His jeans were ripped, worse than Dean's, and had oil spots all over them. Dean raised his eyebrows in a quick, fluid motion before pushing them back together as he returned to the complicated egg hunt. The man turned towards Dean and his lips parted.

"Dean Winchester." The man said, his scruffy voice filled with the hint of sadness. Dean raised his head slowly, his heart pounding in his chest.

_How…?_

"What?" Dean asked, pushing his eyebrows together; worry building up in his chest.

_This is not good. Not good at all._

The corners of the man's lips curled into an unpleasant smile. Dean's eyes followed the overweight man's hand as he reached towards the waistband of his pocket and pulled out a .45 revolver.

"Whoa, whoa man." Dean took a step back and held out his hands. His eyes stayed locked on the gun as it raised in the air, momentarily pointing at him, then to the man's head. "Don't don't do it." Dean begged, trying to figure out how he could get the gun away. If he could, this would end pretty…but of not…

He should have thought more quickly.

The man pulled the trigger and the unpleasant sound of bullet hitting skin filled Dean's ears as brain and blood splattered against the milk jugs. The limp body fell to its knees. A spot of blood splattered against his cheek as he inhaled, his hands still outstretched in front of him. He stared at the man as he stayed perfectly balanced on his two knees, despite the loss of brain. The man lifted his head slowly, the hole on the side visible, and screamed.

An eruption of black smoke forced itself out of the damaged body and filled the rafters of the small shop, before disappearing into nothing. The loud thump was barely heard as Dean's eyes clouded over.

_What the Hell just happened?_

He exhaled abruptly and let his eyes drift back down to the body as a pool of blood inched across the floor.

W

Sam unfolded the newspaper as he leaned back against the wooden chair. The small restaurant was filled with the chatter of travelers eager to get on the move as they filled up on pancakes and coffee. It wasn't much different than the other places Sam and Dean had stayed, but it felt…better. Warmer. Sam sighed and leaned his elbow against the arm of the chair as he read the headlights, searching for something, anything. They needed a hunt right now to clear Dean's mind. He was so…preoccupied lately, that it was starting to worry Sam. Scare him even. If Dean kept at this, they could wind up dead.

The waitress walked over and placed a hot mug of coffee on the table as Sam continued to search for his prize. He smiled up at her.

"Thanks." He tossed the newspaper back on the paper and gripped the mug between his big hands. The waitress nodded, her teenage appearance only making her silence seem normal. She slowly walked away, tossing a dish towel over her shoulder and stepping into the busy kitchen. Sam took a sip of the intoxicating drink and sighed happily at the soothing taste. Coffee was his honey. It was the only thing that allowed him to do his job right. Without coffee, he was a useless as boobs on a man. He placed the cup back on the wooden dining table and grabbed the newspaper again before turning the page. His eyes scanned the headlines and scoffed when the only thing he could find was articles on the local crops and new tourist attractions.

He shook his head lightly, his hair waving subtly, and turned the page again. A group of college students walked passed, laughing loudly at a joke which wasn't even funny, and tossing a ball to each other. Sam rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the paper as the room got louder. He briefly checked his watch.

_6:37 a.m._

His lips folded against his teeth as he rubbed his forehead. He couldn't keep his mind on the paper right now. He kept thinking about Dean and how stubborn he was. It was totally like his older brother to go after the first decent girl they find after he practically had to leave his dream life behind. Sam could understand how he felt, but it was stupid of him to throw himself into a pit of despair which he was heading for. For once, Sam would like his brother to talk to him instead of ignoring him.

At least he had gotten something.

Sam turned the page stiffly, hating this whole act that he had to deal with.

His eyes caught on the last headline on the page, an obituary no less, and narrowed his eyes. But as he read it, his eyes widened further.

"Holy shit." He muttered and pulled the cell phone from his back pocket, nearly knocking the coffee off of the table. Finally, something good to get Dean back to attention.

W

Dean tapped his foot against the linoleum floor as he watched the paramedics lifted the heavy body onto a gurney. Anabell shifted uncomfortably next to him, her hands clenched by her side. Dean glanced at her through the corner of his eyes, taking in her hunched sitting and hollow look in her eyes. Her lips were pressed tightly together but Dean could see them tremble.

"Why the hell would a guy commit suicide in a grocery store?" She asked after about ten minutes. Dean's eyes went back to the red stain on the ground and the gun lying in the middle. He had more troubling questions to answer.

_It was a demon._

His jaw clenched. What sort of demon would blow out their meat suit's brains before leaving it? He hated these kinds of things. Humans were supposed to be the crazy, unpredictable things and demons were supposed to be able to understand. Dean looked back at Anabell. This whole thing was opposite day. The phone in his pocket vibrated silently and he pulled it out slowly, not giving a damn right now.

"Hello?" He muttered, watching as a police officer dropped the revolver into an evidence bag. He really needed to get out of her, but only when Anabell was ready. Dean couldn't remember how to get back to the hotel or if it was even close.

"Dean, where are you?" Sam's voice was filled with giddy excitement which bothered Dean at a time like this, when he was freaking out.

"At the damn grocery store. There is some whacked up shit going on here Sam. A guy just fucking blew his head off in front of me." Dean stood up slowly and walked away from Anabell and the circling cops.

"What?" Sam's tone thickened with worry. Good ol' Sam.

"That's not all. The guy knew my name and, after I saw enough brains for the day, a bunch of black smoke dislodged itself from his throat." Dean winced at the thought of what happened. He was used to seeing people die around him, but this was different.

"What?" Sam asked again, panic rising in his boyish voice.

"Dude this is serious." Dean muttered, not really to Sam, but more to himself as he looked back at the puzzled police. He could see Anabell stand up, her leather jacket now in her hands. He looked away and turned his attention to the boxes of macaroni in front of him.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"No. There's five-o everywhere." Dean muttered, rubbing his sore eyes. "Last thing we need is to end up back in jail."

"Well then head back here; I have to show you something."

"'K. See yaw'." Dean quickly pressed end on the Chocolate and slid it back into his pocket. He placed a hand on his waist and scratched his cheek.

"You okay?" Anabell's soft voice asked from nearby. Dean glanced up to see her approaching slowly, her eyes bloodshot. He nodded once.

"Let's get out of here." He muttered. "I can't stand murder scenes."


	3. Chapter Three

Sorry it took me so long. I've been pretty busy…okay…I have no excuse…

Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters and never will…*sigh*

Set After: What Is and What Should Never Be (Season 2 Episode 20)

Rating: T for mature content, language, and violence

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

W

Riding the motorcycle was easier the second time around.

It might have been because of the thoughts circling in Dean's head. Horrible…bloody thoughts.

_What the hell is happening in this town?_

Dean slid off the motorcycle, still enveloped in the thought of what had just happened. What had happened? He pulled his helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair. Anabell soon followed, the soft tap of her shoes ringing in the back of Dean's head as he tried to push the thought of the bullet hitting that man's flesh, the brain hitting the walls, but most of all, the black smoke that had exited him. It was all too wrong.

"You okay?" Anabell's soft words made Dean jump slightly and he swiveled around to look at her. Her pain stricken face was slightly intolerable to look at.

"Yeah." Dean cleared his throat and handed her the helmet. "Thanks for the ride." Anabell took the helmet slowly and parted her lips.

"Your welcome." She muttered almost silently and turned back to her bike. This time he saw Sam in her. Dean didn't know why, but the way she seemed to turn away from him reminded him of Sam. Not his Sam…no…but the fake Sam he had witnessed in that hellhole of a fantasy. He had to stop thinking about it. He had too.

Dean turned away slowly and stepped up the stairs that led to the wooden door on the old, yellow Victorian. He pushed the door open and the first thing he saw was the huge giant of a brother he had, pacing in the hallway, and his hands in his pockets. Sam turned to Dean and a look of relief fell over his young face.

"Dean. Thank God."

"Yeah, whatever…girl." Dean licked his lips quickly and pushed Sam away lightly, not wanting to damage the weakling. He hurried to the stairs, Sam trailing after as always, when the door opened softly behind them. Dean glanced back over his shoulder and watched Anabell for a moment as she walked in, the same pained expression on her face. Dean's jaw clenched instinctively and he rushed up the stairs.

"What's with the hurry?" Sam muttered behind him once they reached the second floor.

"Try watching a guy blow his brains out." Dean sighed and unlocked the room door. He nudged it open with his shoulder and pushed Sam inside, barely noticing the news clipping clutched in his brother's fingers. Sam raised his eyebrows and Dean glanced up to see them disappear under his bangs.

"What'd you need to show me?" Dean asked, his voice thick, as he walked towards the bathroom. He flipped on the light and leaned over the sink as he turned the faucet on. Cold, clear water fell from the spout and bounced against the white sink. Dean shoved his hand under the cold water and splashed it across his face as Sam leaned against the doorway, unfolding the article. Dean turned the water off and dried his face off.

"I was reading…the newspaper. And I uh, found this." Sam held out the news clipping in front of him. Dean sniffed and snatched it from his hands, almost ripping it. He raised an eyebrow and looked down at it.

"Doug Morrison?" He let his eyes roll back up to Sam's face.

"Yeah. Keep reading."

"We're sorry to announce…blah blah blah…suicide?" Dean pushed his eyebrows together and held the obituary closer. "Gun shot wound to the head. Wow, that's a lot of information for an obit." The pit in his stomach thickened. Sam nodded, a small smile curling at the corners of his lips.

"Sound familiar?" He exhaled.

"Jesus." Dean scoffed and handed Sam the obituary. He took it and stuffed it the pockets of his pants.

"Did some research. Ten other people died like this in the last month." Sam continued as Dean pushed passed him and walked back in the main room. He glanced to the side and saw the laptop open on the small table.

"Wow." Dean sighed as he sat heavily down on the bed, the mattress bouncing under him. "You did all this research in fifteen minutes?" He pushed his eyebrows together and looked up as Sam retreated back to his laptop. Sam lifted his chin in Dean's direction.

"Yep." He mumbled as he typed something on the keyboard. Dean shook his head and leaned foreword on his thighs.

"That's my Geek Boy." Dean smiled. "So what? Demon possesses a body and destroys it for kicks?"

Sam leaned back in the wooden chair and tapped his foot once. "Maybe. You sure you saw black smoke?" Dean scowled at him.

"I was right there, Sam. I'm pretty damn sure."

"Right." Sam chuckled under his breath. Dean ran a hand over his still damp face.

"This is totally messed up man."

"Tell me about it."

"No I mean…it's really messed up." Dean swallowed hard. "That black-eyed bitch knew my name." Dean looked around the room. "And worse of all, just as the guy blew his brains out, Anabell appeared out of like…freaking no where." His eyes fell back on his hands as he folded his fingers over each other. His silver ring glowed in the lighting.

"She okay?" Sam asked, the giddiness in his voice gone.

"She won't say." Dean licked his lips. Sam shifted in his seat.

"Was she there when the uh…black smoke left the body?" Sam and his questions.

Dean glanced back up at his little brother and his jaw clenched. "What do you think?"

W

Anabell tapped her pen against the wood podium out front of the large dining area, her black hair draping over her face as she stared at the reservations. Lunch time. There usually wasn't anyone making reservations at this time of day, but it was her job. Her stupid fucking job that she hated. Anabell shifted her feet and leaned down on her elbows as she tried to wrap her head around what happened. She wasn't going to act scared or go hide, it wasn't her style. So she stood there, her eyes glazing over as the image of the black smoke erupting from that man's mouth circled in her brain. Black smoke. Mist more like it. If it wasn't for the dark hue, you could have seen right through it. Her knee bumped against the small shelves in the podium, pushing a book against the back. She froze for a second.

_Black smoke._

It basically called to her as she stood there, her fingers tapping the pen more rapidly. Her dad would be pissed if he walked in and she was reading 'nonsense'. But then again, she was never the one to follow rules. Anabell stood back up straight and took a step back from the podium, watching the door as she knelt down and grabbed the leather-bound book. She carefully placed it on the podium and turned her head away from the door, her hair creating a veil between her and it. She flipped open the cover and turned the pages carefully.

She had no idea what this book was. It was a journal obviously; the lettering was too informal to not be a journal. The pictures were kept in it by paperclips and tape. The pictures. The pictures and entries were about things that would seem crazy to anyone else. But crazy was relative.

Anabell finally found the page she was looking for, stained by the dirt from her very backyard, but full of information she has read thousands of times as she tried to understand it. Her eyes blinked slowly up as the door opened, but it was only a guest, not her father or another employee. Her eyes fell back down on the page and she tried to contain the fear that seemed to be screaming inside of her.

Demons. It was a demon.

W

Dean had finally convinced Sam to get something to eat. After the minutes of complaining that Sam had already eaten and wasn't hungry, Dean dragged him out of the room and down the hall.

"Dean. Come on. Can't you go eat and I can do research?" Sam protested as Dean pushed him down the hall.

"No you big dork. Order a coffee or something." Dean grunted once they got to the stairs. Dean let his arms fall back to his side and he stepped down the steps, one at a time, watching his brother to make sure he didn't make a run for it. He glanced at the bottom of the steps to see Anabell's back half-visible around the corner of the doorway that led to the dining area. A book sat in front of her, but her black hair covered it too much.

So she's a reader?

Dean smiled at her as they reached her and glanced at Sam through the corner of his eyes to see the familiar bitch-face stuck there. Dean rolled his eyes subtly.

"Can we get a table?" He asked, peeking at the book. He hated books, but she seemed so…drawn into it. Anabell jumped at his voice and slammed the cover shut, the leather strap bouncing under the speed of it. Dean leaned back on his heels a little. Anabell exhaled and closed her eyes slowly.

"Sorry. Yeah…" She leaned down and hid the book in the podium, "There's a…uh…table in the back corner." She grabbed two menus and led them into the dining area. Dean still saw the pained expression on her face. She was dealing with this as well as Dean was apparently.

Sam slid down into the chair and smiled at Anabell as she handed him the menu and the other to Dean, who continued to stand.

"You okay?" He asked quietly, narrowing his eyes at her. Anabell nodded once, not looking up at him.

"Enjoy your meal." She smiled at Sam and walked away. Dean watched her for a moment before sitting down slowly.

He dropped the menu down on the table. "She won't even look at me." He muttered softly.

"She just saw someone kill themselves. It's normal." Sam lied as he glanced back over her. She had pulled the book back out and was flipping back to her page, looking around cautiously as she did so.

"Right." Dean scoffed under his breath. He opened the menu and scratched the back of his neck. "I think I'll get the beef fajita." He smiled, trying to get rid of the awful feeling in his gut. "How 'bout you?"

"I'm not hungry Dean." Sam sighed and pursed his lips.

"Whatever. Where's the waitress?" Dean looked around the small room and licked his lips. There were a couple other people sitting at the table, enjoying their meals, probably not even caring about anything that's happening. A brunette waitress walked over, chewing gum as she did so. Ah, the small town life.

"What can I get ya'?" She asked, barely looking at them. Dean handed her the menu.

"I'd like a coke and a beef fajita." He smiled at her, even though he really didn't want too. He found his eyes fall back on Anabell who ran a hand through her long hair. The waitress took the menu back, stealing Dean's attention back.

"Alrighty. And you?" She turned to Sam.

"Nothing for me. Thanks." He handed her his own menu and smiled.

"'k. Be back with your food." She nodded to Dean and walked off. Dean looked down at the napkin on the table and played with the corner.

A sigh escaped his lips. "I say we eat lunch, kill the demon, and leave as soon as possible." He muttered softly.

"What about scoring with Anabell?" Sam teased, a smile spreading across his lips. Dean bit his lip.

"I'm serious Sammy."

The smile faded. "Okay. Just thought you liked her."

"I do. That's the problem."

"Then we can stay after we do the job."

"Right. Tell her what we do…settle down…she won't think we're nuts at all!" Dean chuckled.

Sam licked the inside of his teeth, trying to figure out what to say. "What's with you?" He finally asked, not sure what else would be appropriate at the time. Dean's eyes searched Sam's worried face.

"Nothing man." He lied and looked out the window that he hadn't noticed when they sat down. The Impala was only a few feet away, glimmering in the sunlight as always. Perfect. Except everything was fucked up. He was so tired of the job. So tired of being the outcasts in a crowd. So tired of watching people die.

The blood hitting the wall flashed over his eyes again. Anabell's scared look on her face. The black smoke.

The plate clattered against the wooden table and Dean blinked the images away. He glanced down at the food covered plate and smiled happily.

"Thank you." He said to the waitress and picked up his fork. "Got anything else on the murders?" He asked once the waitress had disappeared again.

Sam sighed. "No. Victims seem random. Men, women, children-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa….children?" Dean raised an eyebrow as he scooped meat, cheese, and vegetables onto the flour tortilla.

Sam grimaced at the thought of the poor kids. "Yeah."

"That son of a bitch." Dean growled under his breath as he cut into his meal and scooped it up.

Sam nodded once. "Hurry up and eat, fatty. We got work to do."


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Winchesters…but…I don't

Set After: What Is and What Should Never Be (Season 2 Episode 20)

Rating: T for mature content, language, and violence

____________________________________________________________________________________

W

_July 15, 1997_

_Anabell wiped the bead of sweat from her brow, leaving a small brown smear across her forehead. She exhaled quietly and reached for the small hand shovel by her side. The sun was high in the clear Illinois sky, making the job at hand harder than it actually was. She shoveled out a heap of dirt when the back door to her father's hotel opened. Her mom leaned against the doorway, her brown hair blowing in the small breeze that drifted over the backyard._

"_What are you doing out here all alone?" She asked, a slight smile on her pink lips. Anabell glanced up and shrugged._

"_Planting a garden." Anabell's voice was heavy with the labor she had already done. Her eyes fell on the three oak trees she had already planted, along with the arrangement of roses. Her mom walked down the steps, her bare feet not making a sound against the grass._

"_On your birthday?" She said skeptically, "Come on, your cake is waiting." Anabell shook her head, her black hair rubbed against her neck even though it was tied up in a ponytail. _

"_I don't want cake." _

"_You're fourteen now and you don't want cake?" Her mom sat down on the green, fresh grass next to Anabell and played with the leaves of one of the trees. Anabell pressed her lips together and remained quiet as she stopped digging. _

"_Why would I want to celebrate?" She said after a few moments and looked back at her mother in a slow blink. Mrs. Harris's content expression wavered as she saw the dead look in Anabell's eyes._

"_What's wrong?" she asked quietly, her soft voice sounding so much like a child's. Anabell shook her head again, more slowly this time, and turned back to the hole in the ground. Mrs. Harris sighed and stood back up. "Come in when you're ready." She murmured and headed back inside, the screen door snapping after her. Anabell licked her dry lips and closed her eyes for a second before she continued digging. Her mind was everywhere at the moment, but no where near the fact that it was in fact her birthday. She didn't notice at first when she didn't get any dirt in the small shovel, but looked down at the lack of weight. A flat surface was covered by the dark brown dirt and she pushed her eyebrows together. Anabell let go of the shovel and ran her hand over the surface until the feel of leather reached her calloused fingertips. She began digging with her hands now and grunted when she was finally able to pull it out of the ground. She turned the leather bound book in her hands and panted. _

What the…

_Anabell blew the extra dirt off of it and slowly unlatched the strap and opened it. _

_The book was a journal. The initials J.W.U.H. were scrawled in messy ink on the first sheet of paper along with a small design in the bottom right corner. It was different. Unusual and very hard to explain. Definitely weird._

_She turned the page and continued reading, her eyes widening with each sentence._

W

_Present Day_

"He committed suicide…what else do you need!" Mrs. Anderson said in a slightly panicked voice. She blew her nose in the handkerchief and sighed. "I really don't want to answer these questions." She muttered softly and sniffled.

Dean licked his lips and glanced at Sam through the corner of his eyes. This was the time for Mr. Puppy Eyes to do his job.

"We're very sorry ma'me." Right on time. "We just need to check up on a few details." Sam smiled his best to try to comfort her. She looked up at him and brushed her blond hair out of her face.

"Haven't you got enough?" She growled. Dean pressed his lips together.

_Damn…it didn't work…_

"Please…just get out." She waved her hand dismissively and turned away. Sam sighed and bounced his notepad against his hand. He tilted his head and gave Dean an eye roll before opening the front door. Today was already a bad start. They had interviewed five widows yesterday, with the same response, not getting them anywhere. Dean looked up at the dark sky as rain pattered against his cheap suit. This case was totally messed up. No one was willing to talk, and the body count was rising with each day.

Another victim had blown off their head after they ate lunch yesterday.

Dean unlocked the door to the Impala and jumped in. The warm, thick air inside the car was more comforting than the damp, cold air outside. He sighed loudly as Sam slammed the door.

"Stupid broad." He muttered to himself, starting the engine.

"She's grieving." Sam was always sticking up for the people that were rude to them.

Dean tilted his head towards Sam. "Doesn't mean she can't help us." Sam was quiet and Dean took it as either an agreement or another bitchy moment. He pulled back out onto the wet road and licked his lips again. He was starving. Typical of the widows not to give them cookies or anything.

But if only it had just been widows. Mothers, brothers, and grandparents were all the real victims in this horrible case. And none of them would know the actual truth.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of a quaint looking diner and cut the engine. "Feel like eating?" He asked Sam as he propped the door open, not really leaving his brother a decision.

"Sure." Sam answered anyway. Dean slammed the door and shivered as rain drops slid down the collar of his jacket and touched his neck. Damn, it was cold. He hunched his shoulders up, trying to keep himself dry and waited for Sam to join him on the black pavement. Wasn't long though and they were soon inside in the dry, stale air. Dean checked out the lack of customers and raised an eyebrow.

Where was everyone?

They walked passed the counter and sat down in the nearest booth. The leather squeaked annoyingly and Dean sighed.

"No one is going to come to a hotel when people keep dying in the town." A heavy, southern sounding voice argued not to far away. Dean glanced over as Sam played with engravings in the wood table. An elderly man with a close shaven beard and a nice suit, much classier than the Winchester stolen rentals, sat across a tall black-haired girl, whose back was too him.

"Anabell?" He muttered instinctively and the girl looked back, her green eyes meeting Dean's. The older man looked over and scoffed.

"This is the type of men you attract?" He asked, returning his gaze to his daughter, obviously. Anabell ignored him.

"Hey." She answered Dean. Her eyes were still looked dead to him and Dean's bad mood just got worse.

"You okay?" He asked for the hundredth time as Sam glanced over at them, just realizing that there was actually a conversation going on.

Anabell pursed her lips for a second, "Yeah." Her voice was suddenly thick.

"Why? What's wrong?" Her father was really starting to piss Dean off. He could tell by Anabell's sudden stiffened features that he was doing the same to her.

"Nothing." She hissed at him. Anabell turned back to her cup of coffee and shook her head in disbelief.

Dean watched her as her father watched him. "How may I help you?" The waitress interrupted his train of thought and Dean looked up at her. Her mature features were crinkled up in a friendly grin.

"I'll just have a platter of fries and a coke. Thanks." He smiled at her, but it felt all too fake.

"Mm-hm. And you sweetie?" She asked as she wrote down Dean's order.

"Coffee."

"Cream and sugar?"

"Yeah."

"Be right back." She smiled again and wondered off. Dean's eyes fell back on Anabell. Goosebumps were raised on her bronze arms and Dean noticed for the first time that she was wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Dean couldn't help but a let a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. Something caught his eye and he looked down at Anabell's lap to see the same leather book that she had been reading yesterday sitting there.

What the hell was that thing?

"Dean." Sam called, waving a hand in front of Dean's face. He blinked rapidly and looked back at his younger brother.

"What?"

"After you eat, I say we call Bobby." Sam repeated with another eye roll. That was getting to be a constant thing with him.

Dean nodded. "Yeah." The soft click stole Dean's attention back to Anabell, but he could tell it didn't come from her. His eyes flickered to her father's face, and saw him staring right at Dean, a smug smile on his face.

"We meet again." The old man said smugly. Anabell put her coffee mug back on the table and looked back at Dean with a puzzled expression. But Dean recognized the tone of words.

"No…"He muttered as her father raised a gun out from under the table and pointed it at his head. Anabell's eyes slowly drifted back to him and her eyes widened.

"Dad." Her word was quick, but so was the bullet. Dean winced.

The waitress screamed when blood splattered against the wall but the body didn't fall. He lifted his head and black smoke filled the ceiling again, and disappeared into nothing. Dean swallowed and thanked to God he hadn't eaten yet.

"Shit." He breathed and jumped from is seat as the last bit of smoke evaporated. Anabell had fallen to the floor and was crawling backwards away from her dead father, tears brimming over in her eyes. Sam just sat there, his mouth hanging open in pure shock. Dean grabbed Anabell and pulled her up, her body shaking.

"What…he…goddamn!" She panted in fear and buried her head in Dean's chest. He wrapped his arms around her and looked back at Sam, who gulped subtly and stared at the bloody body.

"I'm sorry." He whispered to Anabell as his heart pounded in his chest.

Just fucking great.

W

_July 24, 1997_

_Anabell sat on her bed, the sheets pulled over her head and a flashlight gripped in her hand as she read the journal. It was the only thing keeping her from freaking out ironically. She never believed in any of this. Ghosts, demons, and vampires even…it was all supposed to be make-believe. But this journal…this guide to everything around her, told her otherwise. Her hand holding the flashlight was shaking so bad from the fear building in her and telling herself it was all pretend only made it worse. The detail was all to perfect, to realistic, that her brain was telling her that it was all real. That right now, a ghost could be standing at the foot of her bed, watching…waiting. She jumped when the wind tapped against her window. Her heart raced in her chest and a sick feeling overcame her stomach._

"_Please please please God no." She whispered to herself in a small, scared voice. Anabell turned the flashlight over and swallowed the nausea as the dark surrounded her. That didn't help at all. She closed the journal quietly and slowly fell back on the bed, wrapping the quilts tightly over herself. It wasn't much, but it made her feel better. _

_Why did she have to find that journal?_

_Anabell shivered in the cold heat that ran up her spine and she had to tell herself again that everything was alright._

_But in her stomach, she knew it wasn't._

W

_Present Day_

Dean paced the hotel room, his heart still hammering from what he just saw. Sam's eyes followed him from his protective stance against the wall.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered once he stopped and lifted his hands in the air in a confused gesture.

"Yeah."

"I mean….What the hell?"

"At least we know for sure it's a dem-" Sam was cut off by the frantic knocking on the door. Dean groaned and opened it quickly. Anabell pushed passed him and walked in the room. Her eyes bloodshot from the crying she didn't want to do. Dean closed the door after her.

"Anabell?" He pushed his eyebrows together. "I thought you'd still be…at the station…" Anabell turned to him and Dean noticed the blood stains on her shirt.

"What just happened?" She asked, her voice stable and almost defensive. Sam leaned off of the wall and walked towards her. "Is it just me or is everyone dying in front of me lately? Not including the fact that I saw your pictures," She pointed to both of them, "At the station. So right now, I need answers." Her hands fell back down to her sides. Dean opened his mouth to say something but closed it after a few moments, his teeth clicking against each other.

"Well…uh…"Sam tried, running a hand through his long hair. "I got nothing."

"Me neither." Dean muttered as he turned away. How was she this strong after just watching her dad die? No one was that strong. Not even him….

"Well you sure as hell better come up with something." Anabell scoffed and looked between the two of them. Dean turned back towards her.

"Fine. Might as well tell the truth now that you're in this." He glanced at Sam from approval and got only a nod, "We're hunters."

Anabell froze. "Please tell me you mean deer hunters."

"Sorry, no. We hunt demons and all things supernatural." Dean continued and got a more defined expression this time. Anabell looked frightened. Not scared of them. Scared of what he said.

"What?" Her voice was thick with an underlying sense of dismay and Dean got the feeling she had heard all this before.

"It's true." Sam rubbed the back of his neck.

Anabell exhaled sharply. "You're crazy. And apparently felons."

"Well, right now, I think you should be able to believe us. I mean, you saw the black smoke dislodging itself from people's throats twice now. That's not a very common thing to happen."

Anabell tapped her hand against her leg and looked Dean's face over.

"Then what the hell is happening in this town?"

"We don't really know. The only thing we're sure of is that it's a demon killing everyone."

Anabell's eyes slowly moved to Sam. "And the murders?"

"We didn't kill anyone." Sam waved his hand for effect. Dean thought the hand movements were useless, but amazingly, people understood them more when he did that.

Anabell gritted her teeth. "You're lucky that I believe you."

Sam shifted his weight and gave Dean a hesitant look. He noticed it too.

"Well that is lucky." Dean added and rubbed his nose. Anabell inhaled deeply and slid her hands in her back pockets for only a moment as she tried to find something to do with her hands.

"I gotta…go." She muttered and walked quickly to the door.

"Sorry…" Dean called after her before she walked out. Anabell turned her head slowly to the side, her profile only visible to Sam and Dean.

"For what?" Her voice was low.

"'bout your dad."

Anabell's fist clenched and her chin fell against her chest. She slammed the door after herself and left the boys alone.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Hope you liked. I was thinking, after I finished this story, I could write the journal for ya' guys. There wouldn't be any pictures, but it would be interesting. If I do, look for the title A Hunter's Diary.


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